


Don't shoot the messengers

by Anuna



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Clint and Natasha as competent parents, Established Relationship, F/M, Family, Natasha is a badass mom and not defined by her ability to physically fight, Retirement, Third Person POV, Unreliable Narrator, canon compliant unsettling childhood memories, chosen retirement, it's everything, it's not the catsuit that makes Natasha badass, personal choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:38:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anuna/pseuds/Anuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony didn't really know why Clint and Natasha chose to retire from active service. When he did find out, it made all the sense. It sucked to be the guy asking them to come back and re-join Avengers. Tony's POV; and sort of a prequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/852056">Tony Stark's adventures in babysitting</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't shoot the messengers

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SugarFey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SugarFey/gifts).



> Written for be_compromised promptathon, for the prompt _Clint and Natasha have retired from active duty. Maybe they have desk jobs, maybe they run a bar frequented by agents, maybe they've been hired by the private sector or they do another job entirely._
> 
>  
> 
> _Then the world is threatened._
> 
>  
> 
> _Suddenly Steve and Tony are at their door, asking if they want to suit up with the Avengers once more._
> 
>  
> 
> A fic in which Clint and Natasha have very ordinary jobs and content lives, and when Tony and Steve show up, they sort of had a feeling it might happen. And then reach their mutual decision. Also, Tony has serious considerations about other people and their well being, but rest assured Clint and Natasha can take care of themselves. (They do appreciate the thought.)
> 
> A million thank - yous to my wonderful beta reader and my friend **shenshen77**. Thank you so much for your amazing help, darling!

_You might be surprised by what you see_ , Fury had said, but Tony didn't expect to walk in on an epic fight between two screaming toddlers. Yet that was exactly what he and Steve faced when they went to talk to Barton and Romanoff after four and a half years of not seeing them. 

“Come on in,” Romanoff said when she opened the door and Tony was barely able to look at her before she disappeared into the house. She didn't look surprised, which meant that Fury's call probably preceded them. She did look tired and somehow wrong – actually this entire setup didn't feel very right. Tony looked at Steve, who was of course worried and went inside the relatively small house. 

And inside was a sight to behold. 

“Nicky hit me, daddy!” the first boy yelled.

“No, I didn't! You hit me first!” the second yelled back just as loudly. 

There was Barton, standing between two brats who looked identical and were probably about four years old. Tony could do math quite well and concluded that Hawkeye – Black Widow retirement probably corresponded to finding out she was pregnant. If the boys looked like their father (it was rather obvious, Tony thought with a sigh), they could pull the same kind of rage their mother could. Barton had his hands full. Or rather, he had to use his body and all four limbs to separate his sons. 

“Boys, _calm down_ ,” Barton said, and Tony realized there was more screaming, which was actually more like genuine and upset crying. Natasha came back carrying a little girl (it was _probably_ a girl). 

“You just woke your sister who has a fever,” Romanoff added and gave the boys a stern look. The screaming turned into worried, mommy-is-angry sniffling and complaining while they still glared at each other. 

“Besides,” Barton turned the boys to face Tony and Steve, “we have guests, and you two are not behaving like you should.”

“Say good day to Mister Stark and Mister Rogers,” Romanoff said as she held the red headed child close to her chest. Seeing Romanoff with a child was strange and at the same time not strange at all, and then Tony realized that her figure wasn't exactly the way he remembered it. 

That was because she was _pregnant_. 

“I hope those are not twins in there, Romanoff,” he said. 

“Always so charming,” Romanoff raised an eyebrow at him. “It's a girl.”

“Uh,” it seemed that Captain Awesomesuit finally managed to recover from toddler induced shock. “Congratulations?” 

“Thanks, Steve,” Barton said, deciding it was safe to let go of the boys. 

“This is a bit -,” Tony started. The twins from hell were giving him suspicious looks. They were their parents' children, obviously. “Surprising. You were obviously very busy.”

“It's called life, Stark,” Barton didn't lose that nice touch of sarcasm. Next to him Steve rolled his eyes. Yeah, some things never changed. 

“To what do we owe the pleasure?” Romanoff asked, handing Clint the girl who peered at the new faces from the safety of her father's shoulder. Tony looked at Steve, who squared his shoulders, being ever the hero. Nah, Tony wasn't going to let him explain everything alone and be the messenger to shoot at. 

“You know we wouldn't have come for lemonade and apple pie or whatever you guys eat these days -”

“Waffles,” Barton said, giving Tony a look which meant _not–in-front-of–the-children_ , or something along those lines. “Which was what I was about to make and send these two little monsters to bed, before they decided to start a war.”

“We're not monsters, daddy,” one of the boys said, making an adorable face. Tony could have been wrong of course, but it seemed that Barton didn't have a defense ready for this move. 

“No, but you can act like two,” Romanoff saved the day. “You will go wash your faces and hands now.” She looked at Tony and Steve. “You're welcome to join me in kitchen.”

 

*

 

If Tony remembered well (and he did), Romanoff was always tidy and organized. Right now her kitchen looked slightly chaotic. Every available surface was covered with things: clean dishes, leftover food, fruit, plush toys, magazines, unopened mail, keys, a shopping list and kids drawings pinned to the refrigerator door. It looked domestic, in such an unreal, ordinary way, that it made Tony do a double take. He had an uneasy feeling about it all, and pushed the thoughts of his parent's impeccable, perfectly polished, empty kitchen out of his mind. 

Romanoff told them to have a seat, so they did. She waddled around the kitchen, picking up things and making everything look more presentable. Tony decided she didn't look unhappy. Tired, yes, carrying that stomach around had to make you tired, let alone three kids and Hawkeye as their father. But she looked content. He wasn't used to that and he wasn't too thrilled about being the guy who came to mess that up. Tony guessed nobody could blame her and Barton for wanting to stay out of reach. If an unremarkable and ordinary life was what they wanted -

The boys showed up then, hands and faces washed, cautiously eying the strangers. 

“You two,” Natasha said calmly and put her hands on her hips in a way that reminded Tony of his own mother, “should properly introduce yourselves to our guests. What did I teach you?” 

She was probably the stricter parent. The boys stood right in front of her, one of them looking up for some kind of cue. Romanoff stroked the kid's hair, after which he looked straight at Tony. It was weird, being stared at by a combination of Barton's and Romanoff's faces. 

“I'm Nick,” the boy said very politely and looked from Tony to Steve, who, of course, was perfect in a situation like this. 

“Hi Nick, I'm Steve,” he said. 

“You look like Captain America,” the other boy said. 

“That must be because I am Captain America,” Steve replied. 

Let it be said that Steve Rogers did have an ego after all. The boy's eyes went just slightly wide. Was it just Tony, or were these kids hard to impress? Okay, they were Hawkeye – Black Widow spawn, but still. “What's your name?” Steve asked the other boy. 

“I'm Michael,” he said and it seemed he had more of a tendency to charm people. “And who are you?” Michael turned to Tony then. 

Wonderful, he thought. Steve gets recognized, Tony doesn't. 

“I'm Iron Man,” Tony said. Michael frowned. 

“You don't look like Iron Man,” he argued.

“That's because I don't have the suit right now.” 

“If you don't have the suit, you're not Iron Man,” Nick joined in. Tony looked at Romanoff, however her expression said _you'll have to get out of this one on your own_. 

“Okay, kiddo,” Tony crossed his arms. “I can show you my suit later. Will you believe me then?”

Michael looked at Nick and it seemed like they were having a silent conversation before he turned back to Tony. 

“Maybe,” he said. 

 

*

You'll have to give us some time, Romanoff said before she took both boys upstairs. Steve was okay with that, but Tony paced the lower floor of the house. There were sounds upstairs, children' voices and humming, which made him stop near the stairs and close his eyes. He had nannies when he was a kid. Some of them knew how to sing. Most of the time he wished his parents were around. Like this, in fact. The melody sounded familiar, one of those things Pepper liked when she wanted to relax. Like those that his nannies sang. Tony preferred music louder than his memories; it helped him focus on his hands, not the things he didn't get to have. 

Life sucked. 

Tony hoped it won't suck completely for the two little boys and their sister upstairs. 

“It's not our fault, Stark,” Steve said, which was just like Steve. He was right, but that didn't help the matter. 

“Yeah. Fury could have said something.”

There was probably something Steve was going to say on the matter, for he didn’t agree with this kind of MO on Fury’s part either, but Tony didn't want to listen. He climbed the stairs, because his curiosity was stronger than his already questionable sense of respecting boundaries. The door to the boys' room was ajar, and he caught a glimpse of Romanoff tucking her sons in, then slowly straightening up with a hand on her lower back. Fury and Rogers and anyone could say any goddamned thing about this being the right choice, but Tony couldn't help feeling vaugely guilty. They were going to screw up this little family and their lives and pull them straight into an ongoing war with Hydra. _Tony and Steve_ were going to do it. Tony had no idea about Steve's way of rationalizing himself out of the feeling of being indebted; he didn't have one even though he was a genius. 

Barton came through the door behind Tony just before Natasha walked out. 

“We can talk now,” Barton said and Tony followed them downstairs. Back to the kitchen it was, where Natasha made coffee for them and tea for herself. 

“Let us guess,” Barton said with his hands around the coffee mug. “It's Hydra?”

Tony crossed his arms over his chest. 

“You're good,” he said. 

“You don't un-learn how to be a spy, Stark,” Romanoff replied. “Their patterns are sadly recognizable, even if they're obviously regrouping. Besides, you can't hide much with internet and all those social sites around and people writing about suspicious things happening in their neighberhoods.”

“And I thought you didn't have a Twitter,” Tony said. 

“Hawkeye gets the bird themed account,” her tone had the familiar dryness, but the smile was too fond to miss. 

“And you?” Stark asked and didn't really hope for a reply. He didn't get one either. 

“What have you been up to?” Steve asked then. “This place looks like -” he paused, looking around the kitchen and the marginally contained mess of everyday life. 

“A home,” Tony filled in. Steve looked at him and nodded. 

“We were making that home,” Clint said without any sarcasm. Tony guessed it was just how things were. Behind him was the refrigerator with notes and three sets of colorful, messy hand prints and someone had written _for dadby_ on the paper,. “I'm fixing cars, Natasha works in nearby _Hair and Hands_.”

“You do _hair and manicures_?” Tony asked. Natasha gave him one of those looks that told him loud and clear that he may be a genius, but sometimes didn't understand shit about people. 

“It's nice, it's relaxing and I can do it,” she said. “I had enough thrill at work for a lifetime. Or so I thought,” she gave Clint another type of look, a kind you could see on people who had spent two thirds of their lives together and still didn't have enough. He looked back in kind, and there it was, an entire conversation in a single look, and an agreement when it was done. 

“What do you need us for?” Clint asked then, leaning back and crossing his arms which looked as strong as ever. Retired or not, Tony would bet he didn't lose one bit of his skill. 

“The usual,” Steve replied, then his eyes settled on Romanoff who stood by the kitchen counter, rubbing her stomach. “Although -”

“She can hack, translate, plan, coordinate and do a bunch of other stuff,” Tony said. If Romanoff was surprised by his observation she didn't show. 

“I meant no disrespect,” Steve arched an eyebrow at Tony. “Fighting without Natasha won't be the same.”

“Oh, I'll be there, just behind the lines,” Romanoff said. “Besides, I won’t be pregnant for long time,” she looked at Braton and the look between them was bare and caring in a way that almost made Tony look away. That sense of respecting boundaries might have suddenly hit him over the head.

“She'll be dangerous enough,” Barton supplied. “Even though she doesn't fit into the catsuit any more.”

”It’s not like I can’t be badass without it,” Romanoff said. 

“Way overrated,” Barton agreed with a hint of pride. 

“How long do you need to pack?” Tony asked and actually hated himself for asking. If they were going to pack blankets and toys, he didn't want to be around to see it. 

“We'll be ready by morning,” Barton said looking at Romanoff. She nodded again and then looked at Tony. “We wouldn't agree to something we couldn't pull through while taking care of our children.”

Barton smirked at that. “They're ours. They'll adapt.”

Tony looked at the man, his capable hands that looked older than him, and his worn, but somehow timeless face, and realized they were right. These two didn't do risks, which was why they were so good as Avengers, which was why the Avengers needed them back. There was no reason to doubt they wouldn't apply the same kind of planning strategies for other important things in their lives. 

“Of course they'll adapt,” Tony said. Fair was fair. He could be a hero without worrying about other people's worries. 

“We will need a babysitter at times,” Romanoff smirked. 

Tony smirked back and imagined a lovely sight of himself and Steve, and then Barton and Romanoff marching all those kids through the Helicarrier tomorrow. He would bet on Banner promptly hiding in his lab and Thor allowing the boys to climb him like a tree and pull his mighty hair. It was going to be the jaw dropping event of the decade, he was certain. After which The Avengers were going to kick ass again. Together.


End file.
